Starred review from April 11, 2022
A long friendship stirs a meditation on summertime in this tender elegy. New York Times writer McGrath revisits his bromance with Chip Gillespie, an architect who lived in the small Massachusetts town where McGrath and his family vacationed for many years; the relationship entailed much sailing, marathon rounds of golf, playing charades at parties, setting off firecrackers, and aimless breeze shooting (Q. “If you were on death row, what would you want as your last meal?” A. “You’re probably not going to feel like eating anyway”). He weaves in other reminiscences: boyhood idylls at his parents’ cottage; breaking into deserted Yale buildings with his wife, Nancy; going to the town dump; and finally, watching Chip succumb to cancer. McGrath’s prose unspools like a long summer day, full of excursions that set out in vague directions and arrive at delightful places brimming with exuberant sensations (On jumping off a bridge into a river: “hat long moment of free fall is both exhilarating and heart-thumpingly scary, and when... you... break through the surface, taking in a great, blessed breath of air, the feeling is one of indescribable relief”). Through his glowing, retrospective lens, McGrath captures life at its most carefree and meaningful.